The Founder's Medallion
by Jr. Marauder
Summary: An UnDramione, although it is now on indefinite hiatus and you are free to imagine whatever ending you will.
1. Great Need

The Founder's Medallion

Chapter 1: Great Need

I do not own Harry Potter and I am not profiting from this, so lawyers you can go away now. The later chapters will be longer, I promise. And thank you brilliant beta, H3RM1ON3.

Sparks flew as the battle of Hogwarts raged on. Each turret of the ancient castle was alight with the glow of a thousand spells. The order of the Phoenix, the Aurors, and everyone else in the castle fought bravely, but now as the battle waned only a few people were still left fighting. Ron, Harry, and Dumbledore had all perished in the furious showdown, but Hermione was still very much alive, if not caught in the best of circumstances.

She and McGonagall were being shoved roughly up the stairs, and the Transfiguration teacher furiously demanded, "Where in the world do you think you are taking us, you-?"

"Mm…," grunted the burly Death Eater by way of a reply as he continued to half walk, half drag then along the passage.

When they reached the top of the staircase, they were locked into an empty classroom, which was remarkably untouched by the fighting. As soon as the Death Eater had closed the door, Hermione inquired, quite calmly considering her situation, "Professor, can we, umm, do anything?"

"I'm afraid not. There are magical safeguards on the entire room, and they aren't anything we can penetrate, especially without wands," McGonagall said sadly, leaning heavily against one of the walls. "Miss Granger, whatever happens, I am very proud of all of you," she said sincerely with the faintest trace of a smile. "You have done the names of the Founders an honor."

Hermione's heart sunk. If McGonagall couldn't do anything, what was left?

"Thank you," said Hermione wearily. A million thoughts spun through her head like bubbles. Each one was trying frantically to push it's way to the surface, but they kept getting in each other's way, so her mind consequently remained a frantic blur, not organized enough for coherent thought or processing of emotion.

The next moment, another Death Eater opened the door and looked at his captives. He silently flicked his wand in their direction, sending McGonagall and Hermione flying in different directions. With a hard _thump_, Hermione landed on the cold stone floor of a dark, wet room.

Hermione was confused, and she absolutely deplored being confused. Everything usually made such perfect sense to her, but not now. She had no idea where she was- all she knew was that she was a captive of Death Eaters in some prison that could be absolutely anywhere in the world. If she had been Ron, she would have been throwing curses at any living thing she could find in an attempt to get free, and if she had been Harry, well, she wouldn't be thrown into some cell, she'd have in all likelihood been taken directly to their

Well, not exactly anywhere. Faintly, she could hear waves crashing hard against the side of the building and huge claps of thunder roaring in the dark sky, which was illuminated for a split second every few moments by a bright bolt of lightning. Combined with the freezing temperature of her pathetic shelter, she decided that this must be the old Azkaban fortress. Built by the Ministry, it used to house Death Eaters, and it sickened Hermione to think that it was now being used by them.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a hollow banging noise. When she looked up, she realized that she wasn't the only person there, and that her cellmate was hitting his head against the wall.

"I am such an idiot," Draco Malfoy growled.

_Thump, thump, thump._

"Malfoy, what on earth," Hermione began questioningly.

_Thump, thump, thump._

"I am an idiot," he repeated. "I ruined so many people's lives, and now look at me, stuck in this stupid prison. And to top it off, I am such a damn screw up and I can't do anything about it!" Malfoy yanked an ancient looking medallion off his neck and, with a loud snap as the clasp broke, threw it violently at the wall.

Hermione listened and was more than a little shocked. He obviously wasn't a Death Eater any more or he wouldn't be in prison, and he seemed to feel guilty about it all, which was more than a bit unnerving. Then again, maybe he was just tricking her, although she didn't see what good that would do, as anything Malfoy could trick her into doing, Voldemort could force her to do far more easily.

"Malfoy, calm down and stop hitting yourself," said Hermione firmly, crawling over to get whatever he had just throw. _The stupid ceiling isn't even high enough to stand, _she thought angrily.

"Granger, shut up and don't bother me," Malfoy said stubbornly. "Forget it."

"Its fine," Hermione assured him. "Here's your thing." She pressed it into his palm. Being nice to him was extremely uncomfortable, but she knew that it was the right thing to do, at least until she had the whole story

"Mmm," he grunted as her rolled the medallion over and over in his hand, absentmindedly.

Hermione glanced at him and caught sight of the medallion. She took it from him and held it in her hand, examining it carefully. It was large and round, and it looked many centuries old. On the front was the Hogwarts crest, with a serpent, lion, eagle, and badger to represent the four houses. A million possibilities ran through her head, each more fantastic and in fact more plausible than the last. "Draco, do you know what this is?" she asked, awed.

"A necklace I found in my basement?" He looked at her questioningly.

"This is the Founder's Medallion!" Hermione exclaimed as she shoved it under his nose, resisting the urge to add 'you idiot'.

"The what?" Draco asked as though she had just told him that he was the Heir of Gryffindor. He took it from her, turned it around and even held it up to the feeble ray of light reaching in through a high window, but he still saw only a round circle of gold with an ornate engraving on either side.

"The Founder's Medallion can send you back in time," Hermione explained to a shocked Malfoy. Never in her life had she been so glad to be a bookworm, because now it may just be what saved the day. "But only in a time of great need."

"Well I'd say the end of the Wizarding world was 'great need'," Draco said with a note of bitterness. "But are you sure about this? I mean, what if this isn't the time, what if that isn't the right medallion, what if," He stopped and continued with a new idea. "Granger, you'd better know what you're talking about," he said finally.

"No, I'm making it all up," Hermione said this sarcastically, but Draco didn't comment. She pulled a cube out of her pocket and tapped it with the tip of her wand. Instantly, it became a copy of _Hogwarts, a History_. "Here." She flipped a few pages and set the book in front of him.

_The Founder's Medallion_

_The Founder's Medallion is an etched gold disc created by Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw, the legendary founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It has the power to transport a person back in time, but only in times of the most desperate need. The time a person goes back to is based upon what time period they will be able to do the most good in. There is no record of the Founder's Medallion ever having been used, and in fact is whereabouts are unknown as of the year 1954. _

"Okay, however much I distrust you, you aren't making it up. But, how do you make it work?" Draco said. Hermione could feel a confused mixture of anger, relief, trust, and indeed distrust, a jumble of emotions not much unlike her own.

"So you're in?" asked Hermione, still unable to fully trust him.

"I'm in," he said. This convinced Hermione that he was sincere, because she was sure that Voldemort had no reason to send a Death Eater into the past with her.

Hermione read the text on the back of the medallion and thought for a minute. Then she said to Draco, "Hold out your hands". He obediently did so although he did shoot her a very nasty look and what may have been quite a rude gesture as they both took hold of the disc. "And don't let go." Draco nodded. Neither one knew what they were getting into, but they knew some action was better than none.

"One," Hermione counted slowly. "Two," _No turning back now, _she thought. "Three."

As soon as she said three, they found themselves flying through a dark tunnel of time and space while holding onto the medallion for dear life.


	2. Back

Chapter 2: Back

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money off this story.

Suddenly, they landed on yet another cold, stone floor. Getting up, Hermione thought, _Oh, please not another prison, for God's sake kill me now._ To her elation, she found that they were not in jail-in fact they were back at Hogwarts, right in front of the Headmaster's office, conveniently enough. Looking around, she determined that they couldn't have gone back in time that far, because everything from the crack in the wall to the suits of armour were exactly as they were in her time.

"We're back at Hogwarts," Malfoy observed, quickly dusting off his front and looking around at the familiar surroundings.

"So it appears," said Hermione, her matter-of-fact nature irked at his need to state the obvious.

"Alright, then," said Malfoy in an attempt to take charge. "We ought to go and see whoever the Headmaster is."

Hermione remembered what Dumbledore and McGonagall had impressed upon her in he third year. Time travel was a risky business, and it would be very easy for them to accidentally undo their own existence. "Just don't tell them too much," she warned, not one to let him come up with all the answers. "Or we could change too much."

"I know, I know." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Can we get a move on, please?"

"Fine, but first we need to find a Professor to let us in," Hermione pointed out and gestured towards the door. "We don't have the password."

As she turned to go find a teacher, Hermione was just in time to see what Malfoy was doing. "Avada Kedavra!" he said, directing his wand at the stone gargoyle that guarded the stairway. With a flash of green light, the gargoyle toppled down to reveal a staircase that was spiraling slowly upward towards the headmaster's office.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said reproachfully. "What did you do? You _are_ aware that the Headmaster's office is secure for a reason. Now anyone can just barge straight on up and do anything they darn well please!" she stopped when she realized that he was already halfway up the stairs, and scrambled to get on after him.

"Granger, would you relax for two seconds?" Malfoy snapped. _Why did that girl have to be such an insufferably uptight little mudblood? _"Whoever the headmaster is will be able to fix it, and we are in a bit of a hurry, right? Or if you prefer, we could just wait around until You-Know-Who shows up right here in front of us. Would you like that?"

Hermione ignored his question but continued to yell at him until they got into the headmaster's office, at which point she closed her mouth immediately. It was filled with odd looking instruments and vast collections of old books that sat in their own carved wooden cabinet. The sorting hat rested silently above the large desk where Albus Dumbledore sat, staring down at them through his half-moon spectacles. "Hello." he said pleasantly.

Hermione was extremely relieved to see Dumbledore, someone she knew and respected, instead of, say, Phineas Nigellus. It also meant that she hadn't gone too far back in time, which would make things much easier for them. A vision floated through her head of medieval witch burnings and she thanked the heavens that the Founders hadn't deemed it necessary to bring them back to that particular time. "Professor, I'm Hermione Granger, and this is-" she said quickly.

"Draco Malfoy," Malfoy put in so as not to be forced to suffer the indignity of having a mudblood introduce him.

"Right, him," said Hermione, speaking more quickly than ever. "We're from the future, we got here using the Founder's Medallion and-" Hermione was cut off again, but this time it was by Dumbledore.

He gently held up a hand for Hermione to stop, and she wondered how in the world he managed to stay so calm about everything. "Miss Granger, for the Medallion to work, something very bad has to have happened in your own time." Hermione and Draco nodded. "I will not ask you what it was, as it would be very unwise for you to tell me. Know only that you are here to alter the course of history. It is a dangerous pursuit, but a necessary one. Always use your wits and pay careful attention. Now do you understand the magnitude of this situation?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione and Malfoy said solemnly. Hermione was very worried. She had a vague plan, but it would require a lot of research. Harry had told her about the seven horcruxes, and they had watched him leave alone to search out the ones remaining. She resolved to spend every spare second doing research, but in the meantime she didn't want to give Malfoy, or herself, false hope. After all, they may not even exist for years.

"Very good," Dumbledore continued. "As the term starts tomorrow, you will begin your…seventh year, I believe. I will have to resort you because drastic changes seem to be able to change a person's house compatibility. So, come here." he nodded at Hermione. Dumbledore slowly got up from his desk and took the sorting hat from its perch on the wood case, setting it carefully on Hermione's head.

"_Courage, loyalty, and a great amount of skill," _the hat mused. "_GRYFFINDOR!" _it screamed, far too loudly for the small room.

"Very nice, although I daresay it wasn't much of a shock," Dumbledore commented. "Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy stepped forward and watched the hat warily, as though he was vaguely frightened of what it would say, although he didn't know why. He tried to tell himself to expect Slytherin again and that it was a given, but to his utter shock and disgust, the hat proclaimed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

He was in shock. Never in his life had something like this happened, never had he been identified as anything other than the cold and calculating Dark wizard which he placed a great personal value on continuing to be. This was not good, he shuddered to think what his father, the outwardly respected and privately feared Lucius Malfoy, a man charming enough to manipulate the Minister of Magic and ambitious enough to ally him with the most powerful Dark wizard of the century would do if he was ever to find out that his own son had been sorted into the house of mudbloods and blood traitors

"But Sir., there must be some mistake, I was a Slytherin before and I feel that I still must belong there."

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, you mustn't be aware of the power of this hat. Something has changed inside you, then, because the hat is never wrong." Malfoy gaped at him. "Certainly, knowing this, you will accept Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Malfoy mumbled.

"Well, you're both Gryffindors now," Dumbledore congratulated. "Now, we need to work out where you came from, or other students will get suspicious. Listen carefully. Hermione, you are Nadia Mathieu, you are a transfer student from Beauxbatons. Draco, you are Ivan Romanov and you transferred from Durmstrang."

Malfoy repeated to himself, "Ivan Romanov, Ivan Romanov, Ivan Romanov… Okay, got it."

"Nadia Mathieu, right?" Hermione asked.

"Right," confirmed Dumbledore. "You can go back up to Gryffindor tower, the password is 'raspberry liquor'. You do know how to get there, right?"

"Yes, I was a Gryffindor before," Hermione told him.

"Excellent."

"Thank you, professor," Malfoy said, turning to leave.

"G'night, sir," Hermione called.

"Goodnight!" Dumbledore said to them. "And don't forget, CAREFUL!"

Hermione lay in bed that night thinking about what had happened. All her friends were killed by Voldemort, and now she was twenty five years in the past because of some ancient spell. Tomorrow, she would be starting school with, of all people, Draco Malfoy, not to mention the parents of many of her friends. Draco Malfoy. _He_ was the confusing part. Last year, he tried to murder Dumbledore, and now he was apparently all for defeating Voldemort. She was compelled by logic to trust that he had indeed renounced Voldemort, but she was still rather put out that she was stuck in the past with a guy who spent six years in complete and utter contempt of any muggleborn, mainly her. She also had a lot of research to do, but she decided that it wouldn't be wise to leave the common room before the feast tomorrow, or the teachers may wonder why they were at the castle at all.

The comforting thought of having a plan would ordinarily have oput her straight to sleep, but not now. Scenes of the battle began to dance their ways through her head in a tormenting line of memories, one after the other.

_Fires blazed on the ground and licked their way up trees, bits of grass, and the hems of people's robes. More dangerous, though, were the glowing jets of light that exploded all around, appearing from what seemed like darkness to strike down whatever the hit. _

_Ron Weasley stood flat against the side of one of the castle's turrets, turned to face his opponent, a beefy Death Eater whose spells kept mussing but was nevertheless slowly advancing on Ron, who was trapped meters away from the edge of the roof. _

_Next to them stood Harry and Voldemort, locked in fierce combat. Every spell one threw, the other blocked, and it seemed to go on in a perpetual cycle, never to end in a victory for one side but just to continue on in a steady gridlock for all eternity. _

_Far below, Hermione fought Rudolphus Lestrange. He kept shooting crucio, and she kept dodging, but suddenly the entire field went silent and the constant flashing of flying curses went dark. Only the sporadic fires that had broken out shed an eerie light on the otherwise pitch dark scene. All eyes became riveted on the shapes of three people atop the roof, and Hermione's heart stopped. As though the action was playing in slow motion, she watched as a jet of sickly green light flew from the tip of Voldemort's wand to collide with the blue bolt from Harry's. Suddenly, Voldemort's jet stopped coming, and the force of it sent Harry falling from the rooftop. Even worse, he threw several more curses in quick succession, one of them making contact and sending Ron tumbling from sight. In that moment, Hermione Granger was in numb shock, and as a Death eater approached her from behind and made to take her away, she couldn't resist. _

"Morning," Hermione said slowly, walking down the stairs into the common room. "Anyone there?" No response. "Hello?" Scanning the room, she noticed the top of a head over one of the plush armchairs. "Draco, have you been here all night?" she asked. When she walked over, she realized that he was reading _Quidditch Through the Ages _and snapped her fingers impatiently in front of his face.

"What?" Draco said quickly, looking up from his book. "Oh, hi."

"_Quidditch Through the Ages?_" Hermione asked, amused.

"Yeah," said Draco sceptically. "Why?"

"Nothing, it's just that Harry and Ron idol worshipped that book. They've each read it no less than twenty times," said Hermione.

"Me, too," Draco said. "Exactly twenty-three."

"Uh!" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Hopeless Quidditch freaks."

"We aren't hopeless," Draco told her, pretending to be offended.

"If the shoe fits," Hermione said with a note of finality.

Closing his book and sitting on it, Draco asked, "So, we're cool now?"

Never in her wildest nightmares did Hermione think she would say this, but she never imagined that she would be in the situation she was in now, either. "Yes, I'd say so."

"Well, good," said Draco. "because I feel like playing chess. I haven't had anyone to play with in a while, as Crabbe and Goyle were to stupid to set up the pieces properly, let alone play."

Hermione snorted. "Fine."

A few hours later, Hermione had won three times, and Draco had won a total of… zero. Annoyed, he complained, "You're cheating."

"No, I'm not," Hermione said smugly. "Apparently, you're just not paying attention. Checkmate."

"Darn it!" he said angrily. "How could I not have seen that? How?"

Hermione shrugged innocently, causing Draco to give her an evil look. "Rematch, tomorrow," he muttered sulkily, still eyeing the chessboard as though it was at fault.

"Whatever you want," Hermione smirked. Draco responded by shooting her a last glare and going back to _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Staring idly out the window, Hermione marveled at the situation she was in. Something was at work here, something knew why she was here, something knew what she would ultimately have to do. It was an enigmatic truth, one that gave her no definitives and very few clues, and if there was one thing she hated, it was uncertainty. She was, after all, Hermione Granger. She was a person possessed of logic, wit, and all around skill. Because of this, she had always been able to figure out how to solve problems using concrete logic and reasoning. But now she was in a situation based more on intuition than hard truth. It was a situation that books and logic couldn't solve.

They sat and read silently for the rest of the day, until the sky grew dark and the windows began to fog over. Slowly, the portrait hole slid open, and in the threshold stood a tiny creature that was draped in a tea towel emblazoned with the Hogwarts crest. "You is needed in the Great Hall, you is," squeaked the house elf.

"Come on, we don't want to miss the feast," Draco said, getting up and jumping through the portrait hole, almost kicking the Fat Lady in the face. "Sorry!" he apologized as the Fat Lady grumbled darkly about inconsiderate kids.

"Okay, just a sec, let me put this away," Hermione said. With a flick of her wand, she sent the chessboard and her book flying up to the dormitories and ran through after him.


	3. Exploding Snap?

The Founder's Medallion 3: Exploding Snap?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and am making no money off this story.

Everyone in the Great Hall was talking loudly, except the first years, who were standing nervously on the stage, looking very small indeed for eleven years old. Draco and Hermione sat towards the end of the Gryffindor table, trying to look as insignificant as was humanly possible. Unfortunately, their attempt was a miserable failure. Since there were so few new students in the upper grades, they blended in about as much as they would have had they eaten a few Canary Cremes and sprouted vibrant yellow feathers. Even students from other houses turned around in their seats to stare, though no one seemed to keen to start up a conversation. Of course, Hermione reminded herself, no one has ever started school as a seventh year in our time, either. I'd probably be suspicious, too. She couldn't see anyone she recognized from her seat, and she was contemplating getting up and sitting somewhere else. Before she could get up, however, the hat began to recite its annual song.

After the hat was finished, McGonagall got up and began to speak. "When I call your name, you will put the hat on your head and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your house, you will go and sit at your new house table."

"Anderson, Sophia!" she read crisply off the roll of parchment in her hand.

A skinny girl with sandy hair walked up to the stool and delicately placed the hat on her head, as though she was afraid that it may bite her. "HUFFLEPUFF!", the hat yelled loudly as Sophia made a quick exit to the Hufflepuff table's loud cheers.

"Cummings, Eddie!"

Hermione saw an exceptionally huge boy who reminded her acutely of Crabbe and Goyle lumber clumsily onto the stage. Draco must have thought the same thing, for she heard him laugh slightly from the seat on her left. "SLYTHERIN!", the hat proclaimed, just as Hermione suspected it would. The Slytherin table erupted into enthusiastic applause, which turned into hearty laughter when 'Cummings, Eddie' tripped down the stairs on the way off stage.

"Davenport, Daniel!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Goldstein, Lisa!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

After "Wellman, Laura!" became a Gryffindor, Dumbledore stood up and raised a hand for quiet. Gradually, the tables stopped talking. "Welcome," announced Dumbledore's magically amplified voice. "to yet another year at Hogwarts! Mr. Filch has requested that I inform you that Snapping Saucers and **D**ungbombs remain off limits." In the corner, Hermione noticed a much younger but still leering Argus Filch. "And please, do not allow me or any one else to discover you in the Forbidden Forest. It is called the Forbidden Forest for a reason. Now, allow me to introduce our newest Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Farthing." Everyone politely applauded an older witch wearing navy blue robes and a stern look to rival Professor McGonagall's. "Finally, I would like to welcome Nadia Mathieu and Ivan Romanov, who will complete their educations as Hogwarts seventh years. Now, let the feast begin!" The entire hall applauded, and with a wave of his hands, gilded plates appeared on all of the four house tables, each laden with vast amounts of delicious looking food.

Not having eaten all day, Hermione was more grateful than usual for the rich feast. Glancing sideways, Hermione noticed Draco, smothering his potatoes in butter and gulping down huge and noisy forkfuls of pork chops. She was about to tell him that what he was doing was piggish, disgusting, and was taking away other people's appetites when a medium height and attractive red headed girl walked up to them. For a split second, she thought of Ginny Weasley, but then it hit her--the girl was Harry's mother. 

"Hi," Lily Evans said pleasantly. "You're the transfer students, right? I just thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Lily, Lily Evans"

"Yeah, Dra…Ivan. Ivan Romanov," Draco stuttered, holding out a hand. Lily shook it politely while Hermione watched with wide eyes, to stunned to speak. Luckily, she snapped out of it by the time Lily turned around to talk to her.

"Nadia, right?" Lily asked. "Nice to meet you."

Hermione shook her hand, not quite used to the fact that her best friend's dead mother was standing in front of her, and at seventeen, no less. "Hi Lily," she said faintly.

"Well," said Lily awkwardly, straightening the hem of her sweater. "Do you guys want to sit with us?"

Hermione looked at Draco, who obviously had no idea whom he was speaking to. "Sure, thanks," he said and they followed Lily back to where she and her friend were sitting.

"This is Nadia," Lily pointed to Hermione. "And Ivan. Nadia, Ivan, this is Adelle."

"Hi," greeted a girl with wavy golden blonde hair and clear blue eyes. "Oh, here, sit down." She moved over on the bench so Hermione and Draco could sit. "So, why'd you decide to come here for your last year?" Adelle asked curiously.

Hermione paused for a minute and tried to think of something she wouldn't forget tomorrow. "My dad is French and my mum is English. They both worked at the International Assembly of Magic in France," she lied. "But about April of last year, they were transferred back to England to translate for the IAM office here. Same with Ivan's."

"Oh, okay," Adelle said, apparently convinced. "So that's why you guys don't sound foreign. Your parents were translators."

"Yep," Draco said, glad that making up the stories hadn't been left to him, or they would probably be Japanese and in the witness protection program by the end of the evening.

"I've always wanted to be a diplomat when I leave school," Lily commented. "That your parents work for the IAM is really," she stopped mid-sentence and looked around, rolling her eyes. "Oh, great."

"What?" asked Hermione. "What's wrong, Peeves?" She bit her tongue, as she wasn't supposed to know about the mischievous poltergeist. Luckily, no one seemed to have heard her.

Finally, Hermione saw it, or, rather, them. The four Marauders, James, Sirius, Remus, and that tricky rat of human being Pettigrew were walking up to them, and, if Hermione's memory served, Lily hated them all with a passion. 

"Hi, Lily," said James casually, leaning an arm on the table.

"What do you want, Potter?" Lily snapped. Hermione heard a gasp of surprise from Draco, but to his credit, he didn't say anything.

Everyone was silent except James, who continued bravely, "Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" Hermione cringed, she felt almost sorry for him.

"James Potter, when will you get sick of asking me that?" Lily demanded furiously. "If I had a half a brain, I would hex you into the next millennium!"

"Please go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" he asked. "And please, do not hex me into the next millennium." He gave her a broad grin that could melt any girl's heart. (Except, unfortunately for him, Lily's)

"Listen to me," Lily ordered, fixing him with an icy stare. "I will come on one date with you". James's face lit up. "And mind you, only one date. After that, you must never bother me again, deal? Or I will hex you into complete oblivion." she added as an afterthought.

"D…Deal," James stuttered, still grinning stupidly, like a child who had just seen his balloon pop in midair, but wasn't quite certain it had really happened.

"She only said she'd go on one date," Sirius said reasonably as James bounced off. "She never wants to speak to you again after that."

"I will win her over, Sirius, I will!" James insisted joyfully. "I will!"

Remus, Sirius, and Peter exchanged disbelieving looks and shook their heads, amazed at their friend's optimism.

"What's with that?" Draco asked Lily. Hermione nodded, trying to give the impression that she didn't understand.

"That horrible, conceited, arrogant…" Lily raged.

"Lils, deep breaths. Calm." Adelle coached. Then she explained to him, "That was James and his friends. Immensely popular, arrogant, you get the picture. Any of them could have any girl in this school except Lily, who hates the lot of them with a vengeance. Problem is, James has been asking her out at least once a month for the past four years."

"Oh, okay then," Draco wore a look that quite clearly conveyed his opinion that the world, or perhaps he himself was going insane

"So, you hate them to?" Hermione asked Adelle.

"Ah, they're really conceited and irritating, but I don't hate them like she does," Adelle looked at Lily, who still seemed to be emitting puffs of mental smoke. "C'mon, let's go upstairs."

Draco and Hermione had left the common room neat and quiet, but when they climbed in through the portrait hole, it was anything but. Loud music blasted from huge black speakers and the low tables were spread with a wide array of sweets, cakes and butterbeer. Although the majority if the room didn't know it, Hermione had a strong suspicion that the food could be attributed to a certain boy who owned a certain magical cloak…

"Ivan!" She heard a voice shout from somewhere near the fireplace.

"Uh, bye, then," Draco walked over to James and happily joined in on the Marauder's animated conversation that, judging by Sirius' impression of a keeper dropping the quaffle, had to do with Quidditch. Hermione was reminded of Ron's somewhat traumatic experience as Gryffindor's keeper, although, luckily for him, his attempts took a huge step up during the first game of their seventh year, in which Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw 430 to 30 after a four hour match.

"So, Nadia, do you know anything else about this school?" Adelle asked, grabbing a butterbeer and a handful of crisps off one of the tables and stuffing the crisps into her moth.

"Well, not really," lied Hermione. Not keen on listening to an hour long explanation of what she already knew, she quickly added, "but I'm sure I'll learn."

"Whatever," Lily said dismissively. "Don't bore the girl, come on. They're having an Exploding Snap tournament over there, you know."

Adelle's face brightened. "Exploding Snap?" she asked eagerly. "Where?"

Lily pointed to a group of students clustered around a table amidst a cloud of vaguely bluish smoke. "Right there." Lily and Hermione lazily followed after Adelle as Lily explained in bemusement her love of playing Exploding Snap.

As Hermione watched Adelle beat other students thoroughly, she picked up some rather amusing snatches of information. Apparently, a girl called Cassie Franklin was the devoted, or, in the views of her team, manic Gryffindor Quidditch captain, and she wondered vaguely if she was related to Oliver. 

Hours passed, and as the common room slowly emptied, Hermione decided that she should get to bed. She slowly climbed the round girls' staircase and drew the rich scarlet drapes that surrounded the four poster bed. Peculiarly, this was the same bed she had had before and she wondered who would sleep there for the fifteen something years before her completely awed eleven year old self did. 

A/N: Sorry 'bout the wait, I had a bit of a brain crash and I totally forgot that this story was sitting on my computer. Actually, I thought I'd sent it already. No wait I forgot I didn't get the second back yet. I am making no sense and I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M THINKING!


	4. A ManyHeaded Monster

The Founder's Medallion  
Chapter 4: A Many-Headed Monster

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Snape's lines from HBP. They belongs solely to the most revered and honoured demigod JKR, and I am not making any money off of this. However, all OC's, including Professor Farthing in all her sadistic glory, belong to me.

The next morning, Hermione got up early, ready to take her first set of classes in her new time. Being who she was, she was very anxious to find out exactly how different classes were here than at home. She pulled a top over her head and drew her bushy brown hair into a sloppy looking knot in the back of her head. Glancing at her watch, she saw that the time was 6:30 and she decided that she had just enough time to run to the library and check out some sort of beginner's history of Dark Magic to begin her research with.

"Morning," called a lazy voice as soon as Hermione had set foot into the common room. Startled, she gave an involuntary jump and whipped her head around. "You're up early."

"Draco, why are you waiting around for me every morning?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't want to have to explain why she was going to the library this early in the morning, because she was trying not to tell him about the horcruxes yet. Something told her that she'd get to the bottom of it faster without him 'helping'. 

"Sorry," Draco said sarcastically. "I was going to ask you whether you had any ideas about what we're doing here, because from the way you acted last night, it seemed like you did. But, seeing as you clearly don't want to talk to me, I think I'll ask again later."

"That would probably be the best idea," Hermione told him with an icily. "Just be sure that later is some time next year, alright?"

"Sometime next year?" Draco said incredulously. "Carry on like this, and we'll have all the time your spoilt little mudblood self needs. Actually, we can just spend the rest of our lives here, if You-Know-Who doesn't do us in first. Look, if it were only you in a bind here, I couldn't care less, but seeing as it's me too, I'll go do my own research, because, in case your self satisfied little mudblood head hasn't noticed, I am not entirely incompetent myself!"

Before Draco could say anything else, Hermione turned on her heels and stalked out of the common room, leaving him fuming in her wake. As she marched off in the direction of the library, it struck her that maybe he was right and he was entitled to know all there was to be known, but as quickly as the thought could be processed, it was defeated by the fact that he'd just called her a mudblood.

When she arrived at the wooden double doors to the library, she wrenched them open and stalked in somewhat more loudly than Madam Pince seemed to find appropriate, for even though she was some thirty years younger, her face wrinkled and contorted with anger.

"You!" she cried in her high pitched voice that was not unlike the cry of a vulture, swooping in on a particularly juicy looking carcass. "What do you mean by stomping into this library and making such a commotion?" She rose from her high-backed chair and leaned over her desk, her beady eyes peering critically through small wire rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her long, crooked nose.

"I, I, er, I was looking," Hermione stuttered. Come to think of it, she didn't really know what she was looking for, and even if she had, it really wouldn't do to tell the cross old librarian all about it.

Before she had a chance to think of a good excuse, Madam Pince interrupted. "For what, girl, what! You come stomping in her at," she glanced at the wooden clock that hung above her desk. "Six forty five in the morning and make a nuisance of yourself, so you might as well tell me what you want now so you won't be coming round to bother me later. Out with it!"

This wasn't a good position to put herself in at all, Hermione thought wearily. Guessing that any honest response would be extremely imprudent in some way or another, she decided that the only thing she could do was to tell a flat out lie and hope she wouldn't have to remember it later. "One of my teachers gave us an essay to do over the summer on the properties of unicorn horn and it's uses in potion brewing, and I haven't even started." She hoped that Madam Pince hadn't memorized all the homework that each teacher had assigned, although it was safe to say that nothing about that woman's evil could surprise her any more. 

But Madam Pince didn't appear to question the homework assignment; she merely sighed an exasperated sigh and thought for a moment. "Second to last shelf, three rows down."

"Thank you," Hermione said, hurrying away towards the aisle Madam Pince had pointed out while the librarian screeched commands and daunting warnings about the perils of pumpkin juice stains and what she would have Filch do to Hermione if she brought back a book with one on it. 

As she stood facing a row of books that were of absolutely no use to her whatsoever, she thought intently about the layout of the library, fairly confident that it hadn't changed since she had been there last. She remembered that any non-restricted books about the Dark Arts would be on the farthest aisle from where Madam Pince sat, so she figured that it would be fairly easy to go have a look without her noticing.

Hermione walked slowly over to the right place and began to run her finger along the spines of the old volumes, looking for anything that looked remotely promising. By "promising", she meant "may have a single obscure paragraph about something relevant", as a school library, even the impressive Hogwarts school library, couldn't be expected to have any thong in-depth about Dark magic, applied or even in theory. At that point, all she really thought she'd get was some footnote or a "for further reading" note in the back. Finally she found a book entitled Defence Against the Dark Arts: an Encyclopaedia and one that simply said The Dark Arts. Prying them carefully from their places on the dusty shelves, she went and got a book on potions so she wouldn't look suspicious and made her way to Madam Pince's desk to check them out.

Glad to be rid of the librarian, who, to Hermione's enormous relief, didn't seem to care what she did or didn't check out, she hurried off to the Great Hall so she wouldn't miss McGonagall distributing the schedules.

"Where were you?" Lily demanded by way of a greeting while Hermione helped herself to eggs and toast. "Look, I got Charms, but McGonagall wanted to see you."

Hermione mentally berated herself for taking so long, but at that moment, the Deputy Head(mistress) appeared behind her, blank schedule in hand. 

"Miss Mathieu," McGonagall wore a look of mild puzzlement. "The Headmaster would like to speak with you about the classes you'll be taking. I don't see why he can't just have your records sent from Beauxbatons, but never mind that. Go, the password is 'Bertie Bott's'."

"Bertie Bott's ," Hermione said to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's door, which luckily appeared to be fully functional and not at all damaged by Draco's less than careful way of getting it open when they arrived. Draco Malfoy. At the moment, the thought of that conceited, bigoted, hateful little ferret was enough to make Hermione's blood boil, and it didn't make her much happier that when she looked up, the conceited, bigoted, hateful little ferret was standing next to Dumbledore, deep into a conversation that stopped abruptly when she appeared at the top of the rotating stairwell.

"Ah, hello, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said pleasantly, waving her in. "Mr. Malfoy and I were just talking about the class options you have." Draco gave no indication of having noticed Hermione's entrance, and she took that as a good sign, focusing her attention on Dumbledore instead.

"You both seem to have covered most of your classes, but I think perhaps Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions, to start with. Then Transfiguration, Charms, you don't need the apparation course, do you?" Dumbledore sounded almost as though he was thinking aloud rather than speaking to them.

"No, we covered apparation in 6th year, didn't we?" Hermione asked Draco in her best attempt at a pleasant tone. She didn't want to make things difficult for the Headmaster just because of Draco's and her argument, although he appeared not to share the feeling, and gave her only a cool nod.

"Good, then, do you have any other classes you'd like to take?" Dumbledore asked them. "Something you didn't have time in your day to take before? Arithmancy, perhaps, or Divination?"

Hermione cringed inwardly; she didn't like to dwell on the colossal disaster of an experience that was Divination. "Er, Arithmancy would be good, but I've taken it since 3rd year, so, maybe the advanced class?." Draco rolled his eyes, and she could tell exactly what he was thinking. However, she only bit her lip, deciding that his hostilities were going to create enough of a problem without making them hers, too.

Dumbledore nodded and marked something on one of the schedules, then turned to Draco. "Mister Malfoy, do you have any classes you'd like, or shall I just put you down for anything."

He paused to consider for a moment. "Muggle Studies, I guess." Hermione was shocked, and wondered why someone as anti-muggle as Draco would ever even consider taking Muggle Studies, but then she remembered that he was actually trying to get an attitude adjustment, although she highly doubted that it would actually happen.

"Perfect, then here are your schedules," Dumbledore handed a piece of parchment to each of them. "And if you ever need anything, just come round and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said. According to the schedule, she had Defence Against the Dark Arts first, and after barging into several people in a frantic attempt not to be late, she finally came to a halt in front of the classroom door.

"What classes did you get?" Adelle asked, holding out her schedule. "Lily and I obviously have defence right now, then I've got Transfiguration, then potions." She pulled a face.

Hermione looked down, "I've got potions the same period as you."

"That means I get to help keep you from provoking the wrath of Slughorn. Or letting him take a liking to you, that's worse, right Lily?" Adelle smirked at her friend, who was undoubtedly one of the Potion's Master's favourites.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Really, he isn't that horrible. Egocentric, definitely, but not completely horrible."

Hermione agreed more with Lily; though Slughorn definitely had his favourites as well as a tendency to yell a lot, he was, for the most part, just an annoying and tremendously self important old man.

"Funny," Adelle commented. "That is exactly the description that I'd use for a certain Gryffindor chaser, seventh year, very conceited, very-"

"I will not dignify that comment with a response," said Lily in a dangerous voice, while Hermione thought about the photo album Harry had in his trunk and suppressed a snort.

Finally, the door to the classroom opened, and she took a seat on the side next to Lily and Adelle, who were still giving each other less than friendly looks. The class began to find seats and dutifully pull textbooks and quills when Hermione suddenly realized that she didn't have any supplies. She hit herself in the head, and, cursing her stupidity put her hand in the air. "Sorry, Professor Farthing, but I don't-"

"Ah, Miss Mathieu," she said with a condescending smile. "Tsk, tsk, it seems that Beauxbatons does not hold students to the same standards of organization that Hogwarts prides itself on. However, a book will not be necessary for the 100 lines you will write me for homework on the importance coming to my class prepared. Now, please open your books to page one and take out something to write on. From what I understand, you have touched on all of the necessary aspects of dark magic in the past six years, so this year will be devoted to delving deeper into topics that have up until now been deemed inappropriate for your age. We will cover the Unforgivable Curses in depth, as well as certain dark potions, relics, curses, and of course dark creatures." Hermione's heart went out to Lupin, who she could see visibly stiffen from his front-row seat. "You will start by writing me a brief paragraph on anything relevant to the study of Defence Against the Dark Arts, so that I may assess your knowledge in the field. Begin now."

She gave Hermione a long look that seemed to challenge her to ask for a quill and parchment, but Hermione merely blinked and continued to stare directly at her. She decided that this woman was starting to bear a striking resemblance to Snape, and wondered darkly whether she was the one from whom he drew his 'inspiration'. After a few nerve-wracking moments of quills scratching desperately against parchment, Farthing called time and began to chose people to read their essays.

"Miss Mathieu," she said sharply. "The class would like to hear what you have written now."

Hermione had the feeling she would do something like this, and a vague smile played across her face as she rose and began to speak in the slow, confident voice of a politician making an important speech, except without the benefit of a teleprompter. "The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and capable of power beyond most people's wildest imaginations. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before." With an ironic smile, she thought that that was one of the few things the man had ever done right; provided her with a perfect line, albeit one in need of a few tweaks. "Now, as the world is confronted by the Dark magic the likes of which has not been seen in our generation, it is more important than ever to learn how to arm ourselves against them. True, the many-headed monster will grow a head for each that we take, and it is unrealistic to expect to fully stamp Dark magic out of the world, but with skill, preparation, raw bravery and a bit of luck, we can incapacitate the monster each time it lifts it's head."

Farthing looked at her for a stunned moment, and then set her face in a stony frown. "My instructions were to write a paragraph, and as yours wasn't written down, you will receive no credit for this assignment." Hermione could see that the woman looked pleased with herself, but she knew that she'd impressed her, and so was able to contentedly sit in her seat with a passive expression on her face for the duration of class.

A/N: So, how'd you like it? Do you intend to review it? Please? I'll give you imaginary house points if you do.


	5. Inspirational Speaking

The Founder's Medallion  
Chapter 5: Inspirational Speaking

"Nadia, that was absolutely inspired," Adelle chortled. "A many-headed regenerating monster, eh? If only I'd come up with that." 

Hermione smiled mysteriously. "Actually, I didn't."

"Well, then, who did? So I can send them a Christmas card, you know." said Lily.

"I came up with the end of it, but my," she paused for a moment. "An old teacher said the first bit at the beginning of term, the way he said it was actually quite frightening."

Adelle started waving her hands in the air and making loud woo-ing noises, which made Lily and Hermione start to laugh. Soon, her clowning around attracted the attention of most of the common room. Students in the older grades seemed to find it equally amusing, however some of the younger students were looking at her like she was crazy, which, arguably, she was, depending on your views of overwhelming and unbridled insanity.

When she finally managed to stop laughing, Hermione noticed James and company behind her.

"Hi," said the dark haired boy hopefully. "So, Lily, how was your first day back?"

Lily looked at him for a moment, and with a casual tilt of her head, made her assessment. "It would have been a hell of a lot better if you hadn't turned up at the end to spoil it. One would think that the prospect of having me for three full hours this weekend would keep you busy at least until Thursday, wouldn't they?" The other boys looked sympathetically at James, as though they couldn't quite work out why he was so insistent on doing this to himself.

"Well, I wasn't busy, you see, it was more anxious, so I thought that I'd go pay a greeting to the source of all my anxiety. Perfectly logical thing to do, don't you think?" James returned, although he did look rather hurt, and Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Lily looked James up and down disdainfully, as though she was afraid that he might contaminate her. The tense silence lasted for a few minutes, punctuated by her sighs of annoyance.

Standing there, Hermione noticed that Malfoy was slumping under the weight of the bag and spell books Dumbledore had provided them with earlier, and she was fairly sure that he'd been to the library, trying to beat her to an answer to their predicament. Let him try, she thought, but considering all the effort she was putting in herself, she promised herself that he would never be the one to tell her anything.

"So, you two, uh, know each other?" said Remus in an attempt to break the silence.

Malfoy looked at Hermione, and she glared back at him. "We've met," he said at last.

"On numerous occasions," Hermione added, and pressed her lips together as she remembered some of those 'occasions'. He had called her a mudblood, enlarged her teeth to frightening proportions, and threatened her multiple times, not to mention enabling Snape to kill the greatest wizard of their time. Yes, they had certainly met. 

Remus looked curiously from Hermione to Draco and back again. "I see."

Sirius muttered something to Remus and Peter, and then seized James by the collar of his shirt. "Well, ladies, must be off," he said, making an absurd bow while struggling to maintain his grip on a squirming and wriggling James.

"That was very interesting," Hermione observed with a chuckle. She watched James half walking and half hopping as Sirius led him away.

"Yeah, interesting," Adelle said. "I'm sure the pair of you will have an absolutely wonderful time in Hogsmeade, eh?"

"I'm sure," Lily said sardonically. "You know, Nadia, I'd warn your friend Ivan about them if I were you."

Hermione laughed dryly. "I wouldn't necessarily say friend, at the moment."

Lily looked at her for a moment, and then something seemed to dawn on her. "Oh, gosh, Nadia, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Hermione said quickly. The idea of ever having gone out with him repulsed her. "We've just never gotten along very well, that's all."

"Sorry, I always jump to the wrong conclusions, don't I?" Lily apologized.

"It's alright, Lils, we'll get you that brain function enhancing potion any time now, and everything's going to get better, okay?" Adelle said in a soothing voice, putting an arm around Lily's shoulder.

"You, be quiet." Lily twisted herself out of Adelle's grip and hit her lightly in the back of the head.

Dumbledore held up his wand, and Hermione heard the bang echoing through the Great Hall. "Everyone, may I have your attention please!" he called out to the students, who had been finishing up dinner. Even the Slytherin table had the sense to quiet down and pay attention to the Headmaster, although one particularly large boy gave him a maddeningly disdainful look, as if Dumbledore was inconveniencing him somehow.

"With all of the violence in our world, the Hogwarts staff, the ministry and I thought that it would be wise for students to learn to arm themselves against potential threats from Voldemort and his followers." he continued.

There was a collective gasp from the school at Dumbledore's utterance of Voldemort's name, but Hermione found it more interesting that the ministry was still willing to face danger instead of assuming the stance that it was all a light summer rain that would pass in time and should therefore be ignored.

"So, we will be conducting a practical defence workshop every Thursday night, beginning next week. It will be supervised by me, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Farthing in turn, but it will primarily be a peer-help group. Older students are highly encouraged to come and help out younger ones, and while no one will force you to do this, I cannot stress enough how good an opportunity it is. Take tonight to mull it over and the signup form will be available to you until Sunday night."

Hermione thought about it to herself. Seeing any more of Professor Farthing than was strictly necessary was very low on her list of desirables, but she was quite keen on the idea of helping out other students.

"So, do you want to do it?" she asked Lily as the girls trekked back up to the common room. 

"I'd do it to get help, but I'm not really sure about the helping younger kids part." Adelle began reluctantly. "I can barely do some of those spells myself, and I'm being asked to teach them to the midget brigade?"

Lily chuckled at her choice of words. "I don't think that you'd have to try to help 'the midget brigade' if you didn't feel comfortable. You could just go and practice if you want to."

"She's right, I'm sure you could just go and not have to work with any midgets," said Hermione. She pulled at her tie and instinctively hopped over the vanishing step.

"But then I'd feel stupid because all of the other seventh years will get it and it'll just be me being stupid." Adelle pouted.

"Come on, it's not your fault it you aren't the greatest at Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Lily in an attempt at being rational. "I'm awful at arithmancy and I still-"  
Adelle cut her off. "Gosh, Lily, 'acceptable' is not awful. I, on the other hand, got a D on my defence O.W.L., which, in case you don't recall, is one grade away from troll."

"That's on more good reason for you to go and get-" Hermione's reasoning was cut off by two younger students who came racing up the stairs and smashed into her legs.

"Sorry!" squealed one of them as he hurtled after his friend, finally catching him by the collar of his robes as he tried to get through the portrait hole.

Hermione chuckled, hoping desperately that she hadn't been that annoying as a kid.

"That was," Lily eyed the boys' retreating backs with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Interesting."

"Extremely," said Adelle, who seemed to have momentarily forgotten her academic woes.

"We've decided to do it, then?" Lily prompted. She gave the Fat Lady the password and shoved the portrait aside with a glance back at Adelle's less-than-positive expression. "Come on, please?" she wheedled.

"Uh, the things I do for you," she said in a resigned voice. She slammed the portrait back against the opening in the wall, nearly hitting Hermione in the side of the head. "Sorry," she apologized.

"So coordinated," muttered Hermione and climbed through after her into the warm light of the Gryffindor common room, where she spent the majority of her time poring over every book she could find about the dark Arts, but by Friday night she had exhausted the whole of the Hogwarts library, but she supposed that it made little difference, as Lily and Adelle were getting increasingly suspicious of Hermione's 'studying'.

At exactly 8:47 o'clock on Friday night, Hermione shut her last book, A Hundred and One Curses, and shoved it roughly into the bad dangling off the back of her chair. Although se was extremely relieved to have finally finished with all of those books, they had gotten her absolutely nowhere and she realized that she would have to go find another source to continue working.

She'd always been able to get things done, and now there was a very good reason to do it, but that didn't make the idea of another pile of books any less daunting. She briefly considered talking with Malfoy about doing half each, but then gave herself a firm mental slap round the head. She knew she knew what she was doing, especially when it came to books, she reasoned, and she didn't see why anything should change now. 

"Nadia, what are you doing?" Lily asked. "You've been at those books all week, and we don't even have that much work yet!"

"Yeah, she's right," Adelle added. "I thought you were a bit, er, dedicated about schoolwork, but this is ridiculous."

Hermione held up her hands. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'm all out of books anyway."

Lily grinned. "So you are coming to the village with us, aren't you?"

"You'd better," Adelle said. "Because if you don't come, I won't have any fun at all with her," She jabbed a finger in Lily's direction. "caught up with James Potter."

"Excuse me, I most certainly will not be caught up." Lily's face went red. "The only reason I ever agreed to this was so that he'd accept defeat and stay away from me, the arrogant berk."

"Sorry, bad choice of words," Adelle back pedaled, apparently sensing the danger of provoking her friend. "Anyway, Nadia, are you coming?"

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Hermione said half-heartedly. At first being able to go into the village had been a huge deal, but after four years it was starting to lose it's thrill. Still, it would be nice to get some butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, and if Lily and James started snogging in the street, she'd definitely have a story to tell Harry. A voice in her head reminded her that he was gone, but she reasoned it away with the idea that he wasn't technically even born because of her journey in time and would certainly be there when she got back, provided that she found the horcruxes in time. In time for what, she didn't know.

**A/N: **Here it is, happy belated holidays and new year to everyone, so glad that the submissions are up again. :) I know that this chapter has taken ages, as usual, but at least I do them eventually. Hahaha anyway please remember to REVIEW, this time I am offering you imaginary cupcakes if you do! Once again, imaginary cupcakes with imaginary pink frosting and imaginary sprinkles and imaginary something else but I forgot what...


	6. The Best Advice

The Founder's Medallion: Chapter 6

The Best Advice

It was early Saturday morning and most of the castle's occupants were still sound asleep, save for a kitchen full of house elves busily attending to breakfast preparations. Hermione was having a nice, restful dream that involved the she, Ron and Harry swimming at the Burrow when she was unceremoniously jolted awake by Adelle's loud shrieks of terror from across the room.

"A rat!" she shouted hysterically from the spot atop the bureau where she had taken refuge.

Hermione saw Lily's feet emerge from behind her bed hangings and watched as Lily climbed out and marched over to where Adelle was crouching with her wand raised.

"Where," Lily asked, half annoyed and half amused, like she had done this a million and a half times before, which in fact she had.

Adelle pointed to a bit of floor about four feet away where indeed there was a large grey rat. "Right there!"

Lily turned her wand on the rat and flicked it. With a pop, the rat was gone. "Fake," she said with a snort. "Rubber. The big bad killer rat if made of rubber. Very dangerous rubber, though, very dangerous."

Hermione and Lily started laughing uproariously, joined by the other girls in the dormitory who had been awakened by the incident. Adelle stared at them all for a moment and was bright red by the time she had gotten down from her perch.

"How was I supposed to know that it was, that it wasn't-," she sputtered.

Julie, another girl in their year, got up and climbed up the bureau. She saw some imaginary plastic rat and looked down in feigned terror, sending all the girls except Adelle into more peals of laughter.

"You don't like rats much, do you?" asked Hermione with a smile after she had recovered her ability to breathe.

Adelle shook her head vigorously. "Can't stand them."

"It's okay, we understand, but we'll still love you," Lily said reassuringly.

"Yeah, and we promise that when they finally cart you off to St. Mungo's for treatment, we'll visit you every single day, alright?" put in the dark haired girl to Hermione's right.

Lily pulled a dark green jumper from her trunk and threw it over her head. "Remember last summer, in our basement? My parents asked us to go and get some boxes out, and there was this tiny little mouse and you just about had a heart attack!"

"Oh, your best," Adelle said to Lily and pointed to her jumper in an attempt to change the subject.

Lily tugged at the sleeve of her sweater and examined it for a moment. "Yeah, I like this one, why?"

"Trying to impress someone then?" said the dark haired girl, whose name turned out to be Charlotte. "James Potter?"

"Char's right, she probably is," Julia said slyly. She glanced at Lily and threw her a look that implied that she knew something. "After all, though, who could blame her? I'd say half the girls in Gryffindor rate either him or Sirius Black."

"Julia, you just shut up, and as for Charlotte, I don't think it matters a bit to her who the other girls fancy. No, she's too busy pining after that friend of theirs, Remus Lupin" Lily said sharply.

"Oh, you-" she gave her a look that sent a million daggers in Lily's direction and crossed her arms across her chest, blushing furiously.

An hour later, the girls were traipsing across the wet grounds and down the road towards the village. The sky was obscured by dark thunderheads that threatened more rain at any moment and the air smelt of rain.

"Argh!" Hermione looked down at her muddy foot in disgust. She lifted it out of the murky brown sinkhole, pointed her wand at it and muttered, "Scourgify."

"Hmph, mud out to get you?" asked Lily, whose own shoes and pants hem were also rather wet.

"It appears so."

Adelle glanced down at Lily's feet and assumed a maternal tone. "Lily Evans, be careful around that mud, you don't want James to see you dirty like that, do you?"

Without warning, Adelle jumped up and landed sitting in the mud with her pants coated in mud and large globs of it spattering her hair.

Hermione and Lily reflexively jumped back, but they were too slow and they ended up with it spattered over their clothes as well.

"Adelle! What did you do that for? Have you lost your mind?" demanded Hermione as she assessed the damage to her cream blouse.

"Look, you got mud on my leg!" Lily held out the black pants leg that was now also dirty.

Adelle was still smiling, and when the other girls looked at her with a mixture of confusion, annoyance, amusement, her smile widened. She stood up to examine her clothes and hair.

"It really looks that bad?"

Hermione took a deep breath gave her the honest truth. "It looks like someone stood behind you and turned the hose on high. And, the hose just happened to be full of mud. That was exactly the sort of thing Fred and George would find funny, but Hermione remembered painfully that Fred Weasley was killed almost a year prior by Rabastan Lestrange, who died later in the same battle after George was through with him.

"Excellent, absolutely excellent, exactly what I was going for," said Adelle with a satisfied look at her clothes. Mud covered the backs of her legs and the bottom of her sweater, and a huge splash had hit her squarely in the back of the head.

"Adelle, you need some serious psychiatric help, are you sure you're not suffering from the side effects of some sort of weird spell?" Lily asked her as she carefully inched her way ahead to Hogsmeade, hoping that they could get a move on before it started to rain again.

Adelle thought about it for another moment, but seeming to decide, she started on her way to the village. "Nope, I'm sure, my head's as much there as it'll ever be."

"Well then at least get the mud off your bum first, you'll get stares," Hermione said reasonably. She held her wand out at Adelle and said, "Scour-."

"Mm, no it's okay, leave it," Adelle told her, She waved away the wand and leapt walking down the hill. Hermione hurried down the path after her, almost tripping over a rock, and seized her by the shoulders.

"Why are you going like that? It's not like I care, but if you end up mocked by everyone for all eternity do not dare try to say I didn't warn you." Lily told her in an very Molly-Weasley-like way.

"I don't care, I just like being stupid, it's fun sometimes, you really ought to try it!"

Despite Adelle's antics, the girls talked and laughed their way down to the village, where they came upon a scene that was less than the picturesque setting of Lily's dream date. The world was, rather murky looking and sepia toned, with the threat of pouring rain at any moment hanging over their heads. Huge mud puddles spread themselves across the normally bright and clean cobbled streets, and dark rain runoff dripped down from the eaves of the shops and onto the heads of the occasional unfortunate passer-by. Everywhere you looked, people were holding their hands over their heads cautiously and making mad dashes for cover in case the sky decided to let loose another barrage of water.

Adelle, Lily and Hermione joined the rushing masses as they darted underneath the covered front of the Three Broomsticks. Then, with evil smiles and teasing well wishes they left Lily alone at the counter waiting for her date and headed first to the bookshop and then onto Honeydukes, as Adelle insisted that she needed to stock up in Fizzing Whizbees.

The shop was absolutely magical, as always, especially in they eyes of a muggle born witch like Hermione. The colours were vivid and bright, filling the displays with bright pinks, blues, and yellows. Candy floss had been woven throughout the store like a covering of sweet sugar spider webs and all of the shelves seemed to be made of chocolate. Even the more distinctive varieties like cockroach clusters and blood flavoured lollipops looked bright and even appealing against the bright and fanciful backdrop of a sweet shop.

Other students seemed to have the same feelings, because of all the places in Hogsmeade-except perhaps the Three Broomsticks-this was by far the busiest. Lines of people stretched through the store and each student seemed to hand over a sizeable handful of coins for his armload of sweets. Hermione made a mental note that, if she needed to, running a sweet shop probably wasn't the worst business venture in the world to get into.

"Wonder how Lily's coping," Adelle smirked as she and Hermione were sampling the new flavour of magical candy floss that floated in front of your face in midair like a giant cloud of pink fluff.

"The better question is, how if James coping? She's probably got him reduced to tears by now," said Hermione. She was examining a box of sweets that claimed to make you better at math for an hour, just long enough to do an Arithmancy exam, and thought about how much her friends in muggle school could use those.

"Forget tears, the poor bloke'll be checking into St. Mungos with 'I'm a stupid conceited git' tattooed across his face and a green fungus infestation in his hair," Adelle projected.

"Yeah, then there'll be Lily, laughing her head off, telling them she's got no idea how it happened," Hermione said, although she wasn't sure. She knew that they were supposed to get together sometime in 7th year, and wondered whether this would be the day they'd finally hit it off.

As if on cue, the minute the thought crossed her mind, James and Lily entered the shop, James gripping Lily by the hand. He was wearing a grin broader than anything she'd ever seen before, and Lily didn't seem to mind letting him.

Adelle's jaw dropped, and she stood gaping from behind a rack of Droobles. She poked Hermione sharply in the ribs to get her attention, but it wasn't necessary since Hermione had already seen.

"I love this shop, best ever, I think, aside from Zonkos here and Gambol and Japes in Diagon Alley, obviously." He grinned at her and looked at her with bright eyes. "What do you think, of do you still like the bookshop better?"

"Close, but I think I'd have to say bookshop," admitted Lily with a helpless shrug, mirroring Hermione's answer. Candy was all fine and good, but something about the solidity of a book appealed to her, and had ever since she was a five year old who got teased out of the Kindergarten room because for a period of time everything she touched sparked silver and gold with loud pops and bangs.

James rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, its Honeydukes for Merlin's sake, you have to love Honeydukes! If you don't it's just-it's just not right, don't you think?"

Then it was Lily's turn to roll her eyes. "I didn't say I didn't like it, I just said I preferred books, that's all."

James picked up a blue and white box of sugar quills of one of the shelves. It was decorated with sparkling lettering done in real sugar and inside you could see the crystallized quills rolling around temptingly inside the box, but Lily looked at it evilly as though it was a letter that upon opening was threatening to emit anthrax and poison everyone in immediate proximity.

"In that case, care for some sugar quills." James's mouth twisted into another mischievous grin.

"No!" Lily said suddenly. "Never again will I let you give me another one of those things, this one may well shoot my mouth full of India ink, you must be kidding me!"

"But why, Lils, they're just sugar quills, they won't hurt you!" said James in an attempt to feign affront.

"Oh, please! Tell me you haven't forgotten already!" said Lily disbelievingly. "Taken a bludger to the head a bit hard?"

Something seemed to dawn on James. "So you mean that. That was all in good fun, honest!"

"Really? Because the way I remember it, in 5th year you gave me a sugar quill to do the term paper for McGonagall, and then, three rolls of parchment later, I found out that all the sugar had come off on the paper and I had to recopy it so that it wouldn't attract ants!" Lily pouted.

"It's not my fault you didn't notice! I though that with your nose about a quarter inch away from the paper you'd have noticed before you'd done three hours of work on it!" James rationalized guiltily.

"Not," Lily looked at him in irritation, "funny. Not in the slightest."

"You're smiling," observed James with a dry smirk.

"I-I-I'm not!" Lily protested, though in vain. She raised a tentative hand to her face, only to find that not only was she smiling, her face was also hot and quickly turning vividly red.

"You're not," James teased. "so, you mean that you're always bright red like that? Don't get me wrong, you look very very cute, but I don't remember you always looking quite like that."

"I am not embarrassed because of the sugar quills," admitted Lily slowly, playing with her hands and biting her lip nervously. "I'm embarrassed because I'm beginning to sort of-like you. Not too much, though, just enough to maybe come out with you again?"

James leant against a shelf stocked with jelly skulls and looked her up and down with another grin. "Oh really? Lily Evans, the girl I've been relentlessly pursuing for years to no avail has actually finally agreed to come out with me not just once but again? What ever happened to 'one date, mind you, and after that you'll have to get out of my face indefinitely'?" He said it in a tone of feigned astonishment, although arguably it could have actually been real astonishment made to sound fake by James's need to seem cool headed at all times.

"Yes, I have enjoyed this rather more that I ever thought I would, but that does not mean that I'll continue to if you keep teasing me like this!" threatened Lily. She crossed her arms and stuck out her chin mockingly. "So just pull yourself together, stop trying to be witty and let's enjoy ourselves without asking each other stupid questions we already know the answers to."

"You think we already know the answers?" asked James in direct defiance of Lily's orders. "I'll try you, then, what's my favourite-er-animal?"

"I didn't mean that kind of question, how would I ever know that?" Lily raised her eyebrows.

"No, really, just guess." When met by Lily's slightly annoyed look, he added teasingly, "So the brilliant Lily Evans doesn't know and answer?"

Lily shook her head. "Fine them, I'll play your game. A wolf?"

James cringed inwardly. "No, try again."

"A bear?"

"No."

"A cat?"

"No." 

"An Amazonian tree frog?"

James chuckled. "Definitely not, one more guess."

"Okay, how about an eagle?"

"Nope, all wrong, stag."

"Oh, like a male deer?" Lily asked.

"Yeah." 

Lily thought for a minute. "I could never in a million years have guessed that, but I like it. Powerful, but in a noble way instead of a brutish one."

"Exactly." James smiled. "What's yours?"

"I haven't really got one, it's just not something I think about," Lily explained. "Different question."

"Hmmm, okay, uh, what the heck do you do all summer? You know, as you avoid responding to the owls I write, that is."

"Well, to be fair, you only sent two," Lily began. "which isn't bad-Adelle must have sent a million and a half, but seriously, I usually spend a lot of my summer making sure to be out of the house when Petunia's around. She and that nasty Vernon Dursley with that great fat beet he calls a face and that horrible bean counting way about him, like money's all he cares about. Not that my sister's any better, though, she's even worse and fully deserves the maniac, it's just that now, in addition to inflicting herself on me, which was bad enough, she's inflicting him on me too, which is just purely sadistic." Lily sounded thoroughly put out, and from all that Hermione had heard of the Dursleys from Harry and the rest of the Weasleys, she completely understood what she was talking about.

"You don't get along well with your sister, I take it," James said. Lily shook her head. "Do you know why? Did you ever just try to talk to her-you know, get on the same page? Maybe some stupid misunderstanding?"

Lily let out a small, bitter laugh. "Oh, it's no misunderstanding, that's for sure. We used to be the best of friends, but when I got the letter she must have resented the attention I got from our mum and dad because from that point on, it was nothing but, 'Lily, you are such a freak' and 'when you go back to your freak school' and 'you and your freak friends'. I did nothing to her, absolutely nothing, it's just so maddening!"

"Well, at least you still have your mum and dad, right? Parents to love you, that's valuable, as Sirius would be quite glad to point out." James said. When met with Lily's blank look, he elaborated. "He ran away from his parent's house last summer, he's been living at my house. Not that I mind having him around, or that my parents do; we're glad to have him, but they never want him back, they've disowned him. That can't be easy, he lost his whole family."

"Oh my–" Lily stopped. "No wonder he's been–less than his typical Marauder self this year, that's awful. I feel so selfish now. I mean, I've lost a sister, but he's lost everything."

James gave Lily's hand a squeeze. "You're not being selfish, I know it's rough, but you've done this much and it'll only get better after June when we'll be able to go out into the world and do for ourselves. You'll be the one with the career and the life and ultimately the life fulfilment, and she'll be the one who has to live in her own little box for the rest of her life. That's what my mum told Sirius, anyway."

"I know, thanks." Lily looked at him gratefully.

Now, Hermione could see the side of James Potter that could get off his hundred-mile-per-hour-broomstick and come down from the sky. 

"That's some of the best advice I've ever had. All I get from my mum is 'work it out' or 'why can't you go back to being' which is pretty useless since it just is not going to happen."

She sighed and took a step towards the door. "Come on, lets go take this conversation to Florean's, I have a distinct suspicion that certain people," she looked at the place where Adelle and Hermione had been standing seconds before they had had the sense to duck behind the shelf, "are watching us."

"Okay, fine by me."

Hermione watched as they walked happily hand in hand out the door and into the now pouring rain. Lily conjured an umbrella and the two made their way towards the ice cream parlour.

She thought half with amusement and half with sadness that the pair had no idea what they would become, or what their world would become.

In a year, they would be recruited to the fight against Voldemort, in two years, they would be married, in 5 years they would have Harry, and in six they would be dead.

Hermione wanted more than anything to try to change that, but she knew that at best she would fail miserably and that at worst she could undo something drastic-like Harry's birth, for instance-and it was only that that made her act with restraint.

A/N: Any feedback is appreciated, especially with the amount of detail I put into my work. I'm kind of struggling with the fine line between putting you into the story and boring you to death, so please CC!


	7. Stands Between Both Sides

The Founder's Medallion  
Chapter 7: Stands Between Both Sides

Disclaimer/AN: I do not own Harry Potter and am not profiting from this in any way. Dumbledore's advice to Hermione is taken from Order of the Phoenix, although it is paraphrased. Thanks to H3RM10N3, who beta-ed this, and Lily Severn, who wrote the prophecy, since I am awful with rhyming. 

A huge group of seventh year Gryffindors were gathered in the Great Hall for the first meeting of the defence and peer help group. All of the tables were gone like they had been for the Yule ball in Hermione's 5th year and for Lockhart's dueling club, and had been replaced with a wide assortment of huge soft cushions for stunning, hoops for apparation practice, and a bookshelf containing the entire defence against the dark arts section from the library with Madam Pince's warning of 'Treat the books with respect OR ELSE' printed on a large sign that hung from it. Many of the younger students mulled around apprehensively by the door while the majority of the rest of the school chatted aimlessly as they waited for it to start. 

Finally, Dumbledore stood at the front of the room and raised his hands above his head in his favoured attention getting position. "Welcome to everyone who has come for the Defence Group! Now, as I'm sure you all know, this program is operated on a students-helping-students basis, and as such, it is a good idea that you be aware of some of the most basic charms used for safety purposes. Aguamenti, the water charm, make sure you know it. Repeat after me, aguamenti!"

"Aguamenti," chorused the students.

"Excellent, thank you! Now, I'm sure you're all anxious to begin, and there will be teachers walking around to supervise, so you may start!"

At that, the noise level in the Great Hall escalated to gargantuan proportions as everyone yelled out at once to their friends in an attempt to decide where they were supposed to be going. Hermione and the other girls made their way around the hall, looking out for people who needed help as well as doing a considerable bit of talking amongst themselves.

"Lily Evans, I never though I would see the day, that's for sure!" said a girl whose name Hermione thought was Charlotte.

"Well, um, neither did I, to be honest with you," Lily said truthfully, pausing to tell an ambitious fourth year how to pronounce 'expecto' properly instead of saying 'execto'.

They laughed girlishly. "You really like him, then?" asked a second as the other girls looked to her for a response.

"Yeah, I think I do," Lily said, seeming to savour the concept. "I really wasn't being fair to him before, he really is a nice guy when it comes down to it, just a bit full of himself."

They laughed again, but were interrupted by James's sudden interjection.

"Full if myself, am I?" he said gaily. He stepped between Lily and Charlotte and looked at Lily in a more healthy and less obsessive way than he had before.  
"Hello, we were just discussing you," Adelle told him.

"Really? Were you discussing me, too?" Sirius put in, grinning.

"No," Hermione said.

He'd freely admitted to having an ego problem as a kid, but it was still kind of funny to witness firsthand from someone whom you'd only known as an adult, even an extremely childish one. Unfortunately, she knew what was to come for him, and she held her breath painfully as she watched the unbridled enthusiasm for life that was growing closer every day to drying up.

"Sirius, you need to get used to the fact that the entire world does not revolve around you, my poor misguided friend," said Remus, shaking his head.

"I don't think he understands how that could ever be possible in a million years," Peter commented.

Sirius held his hands out dramatically. "Why's everyone on my case now?"

"Because-" Peter began.

Seeming to understand what it would take to shut Sirius up, James hit him hard in the back of the head.

"Thank you," Malfoy said.

Hermione turned around slowly--she'd completely forgotten that he was there. Unfortunately, she didn't turn slowly enough to escape his notice, and for the split second she met his eyes, he gave her an infuriatingly haughty look that seemed satisfied she was taking notice, be it negative or positive.

"I think we ought to go help," Lily started, pointing to another cluster of third years trying to practice with boggarts.

"Yeah, we should go. That's why we're here, after all--to help them," agreed Hermione.

"Okay, but actually me and Adelle are going to stay here and work on protego, you lot go over there," said Lily.

Peter spoke up. "Can I work with you? I need to brush up on protego, too."

He looked embarrassed, but that wasn't what Hermione was focusing on. She was just hoping rather pointlessly that Lily wouldn't agree to help Peter with his spell work. She knew that it would happen no matter what, but that would still be a huge irony in the worst possible way.

Instead of Lily, Remus stepped up to help Peter, which Hermione lamely reflected wasn't much better. Soon, though, she had a much more annoying problem to confront. Since Sirius and James had automatically paired up, she was left to work with Malfoy. She bit her lip and tried to tell herself to be calm, just like she had always been taught to be, and not to hand over her power by getting angry at him. 

"Riddikulus!" she coached the frustrated third year, demonstrating the wand movement a final time. "Try it,"

"Riddikulus!" he echoed. His pronunciation and wand movement were fine, which Hermione took to mean that his humour image was the thing lacking.

"As far as I can tell, you're doing it right," she told him kindly. "So, the problem must be your image. Since your boggart is a werewolf, you could-" She thought for a moment. "You could, er, give it a poodle's haircut."

The boy laughed. "Okay, I'll try that. I've been putting a muzzle on it, but that was scary too, actually."

Hermione opened the suitcase, and a werewolf as large as a man with shining gold eyes and matted grey fur emerged, snarling like mad. Many of the other students turned around in horror, but they quickly realised that it was only a boggart and went back to their practice.

The boy gave the creature a hard look and bit his lip. Raising his wand, he said firmly, "Riddikulus!"

For a brief moment, the wolf stood unaffected, then its fur grew and shortened oddly until it looked like a larger version of a show poodle, but a second later, it was gone with a faint pop.

"Thank you!"

The boy danced away happily to go show off his newfound boggart repelling skills to his friends, leaving Hermione and Malfoy standing alone next to the ragged suitcase as the boggart rattled violently in an attempt to escape. Just as Hermione was about to start shouting at him for just standing there, Dumbledore glided over and recruited them to perform a duelling demonstration for the group.

"Stand on the table," he instructed, indicating the dining table turned makeshift stage. "And perform an example duel. No spells Madam Genees won't be able to cure with a flick of the wand, I don't want any accidents."

Hermione sighed, then obediently climbed onto the table and took her place at the end of the table, opposite Malfoy, who glared at her with a disturbing mixture of irritation and anticipation that suggested he was disappointed that he wasn't going to be able to use her to refine his skills of magical criminality to a fine art, if, Hermione thought darkly, he hadn't already.

Taking a deep breath, she gave him a stiff bow without moving her eyes from his leering form as he did the same. Then, straightening up, she waited. Later on, she would have to throw a spell, but for the moment all she wanted to do was deflect them and make him angry. That, she thought, would be a very satisfying show to watch.

"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, seemingly resigned to the idea of using only the most harmlessly boring spells.

With a casual flick of her wand, Hermione sent the jet of light ricocheting off the stone wall, then it simply faded into the enchanted ceiling. He sent more jinxes and the occasional hex, but each coloured bolt faded benignly into nothingness.

Malfoy eyed her suspiciously as he waited for her move, and it amused her greatly to know that he wasn't going to get it. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, then took a slow step forward, daring her to stand still. She did exactly that. After a minute's silence, he raised his wand and muttered some inaudible incantation, but noting appeared to happen. Everyone watching, including Hermione, crinkled their eyebrows in puzzlement, except Malfoy, who merely smirked.

Slowly, a faintly shimmering green orb began to take shape. It hovered at Hermione's chest level then began to spin with increasing speed as the colour of it faded from dark green to light and back again with glowing and sparkling flecks glittering in it all the while. Then, the orb began to turn in on itself and elongate into a long, spindly finger like a unicorn horn that extended itself slowly in Hermione's direction.

She stood and studied it carefully as it spiralled towards her. She couldn't think of what the rapidly forming green rod encircled by a pixie dust glow could be, but she had a sinking suspicion that coming from Malfoy, it couldn't be anything good. Thinking fast, she pulled her wand from her side and aimed it, drew a circle in the air around the rod, pulled her wand up, and with a quick slashing motion from Hermione, the green rod stopped swirling. The long tentacle recoiled back into its original shape, the sinister orb glowed sliver, then turned green again, went brittle, and shattered, the fragments briefly resting on the ground before fading into the grey stone and sucking the light and air from the room with them, leaving the hall in the smothering dark and silence of a long deserted crypt.

Warm sunlight poured in through the curtains that were drawn wide in the windowsill above the metal bed frame covered with blue-green linens that were obviously meant to exert a calming effect on patients. But, as the bed's occupant finally awoke with a jolt and snapped her head around wildly, her tangled brown hair whipping around and hitting her bluntly in the face, it didn't seem to be working especially well.

Hermione was dazed. She didn't know where she was, when it was, or how she had gotten where she was. Her first thought was that she had made it back to her time, but she noticed a middle aged witch with greying curls who definitely wasn't Madam Pomfrey hurrying over to her, she quashed that idea.

"Oh, hello dear, so glad you've woken up. How are you feeling?" Madam Genees asked kindly.

"Good," Hermione said. She took the cup that the nurse offered her and downed its steaming purple contents, then continued. "What--what happened?"

"Mmm," She pressed her lips together in contemplation.

Hermione's eyes scanned the room quickly. She was not in the hospital wing, as she had blearily thought upon waking, but in the Great Hall, which had been converted into a sort of infirmary. Students lay in rows where the tables usually were in beds that had obviously been conjured at the last minute, for two prefects were scurrying around tapping them with their wands to ensure they didn't vanish while taking care not to disturb their occupants, most of whom were either asleep or unconscious. Some student sat up groggily and looked around at the others or tried to chat with friends, but everyone mainly remained silent. From those who did speak, though, she heard grim mutterings like, "spell", "curse", and "murder".

At the last word, Hermione looked pleadingly at the nurse as she watched a prefect talking in a low voice to a second year who was in hysterical tears. "I think that Professor Dumbledore wished to speak with you himself," she said firmly. "Now that you're awake, I'll send someone to fetch him to tell you himself." 

"Please, ma'am," Hermione said. She would have prodded more, but she could tell from her firm expression that all the prodding in the world wouldn't be able to extract a kernel of information from between her thin lips.

"Miss Mathieu," Dumbledore said when he arrived. Almost immediately, everyone awake in the Great Hall turned to look at the Headmaster, prompting him to add to Madam Genees, "May I speak with Miss Mathieu in private?"

"Yes, of course, do whatever you need to."

"Thank you." Dumbledore waved his wand and a curtain that Hermione assumed was soundproof encircled the bed. "There, that's better," he said. He adjusted his silver spectacles and looked straight at Hermione with his nearly clear blue eyes. "Now, I imagine you have quite a few questions, but before you ask, I would like to do my best to explain the situation to you. I will not withhold any facts from you, but you also need to bear in mind that I do not know all of the answers myself. Finally, some of what I say is highly classified and may weigh very heavily on you and your life, and you are one hundred percent free to tell me that you don't want to hear any more. I will of course honour that request and you may continue with your day to day existence."

"I understand. Please, I need to know."

"I was almost positive that you would say that," Dumbledore said approvingly. He straightened his glasses again and tugged on the gold cord that fastened his robes. "Hermione, what do you remember?" he asked.

Hermione though hard for a moment.. She unconsciously twisted part of her bed sheets into a tight coil as she tried to call up every last bit of information that lurked in the crevices of her brain. "There was a lot of green light," she said confidently. "But it wasn't Avada Kedavra. I had been duelling Malfoy and--" Her face blanched. She had just said aloud what had happened. "He did it, didn't he? Some kind of curse?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "It was a variation of Avada Kedavra used by the Death Eaters to kill people in large numbers at a time, but it can be blocked easily. The danger of it is that it is a somewhat guarded secret, and many people are unfamiliar with it and don't know when to take action. You blocked it, which is why everyone wasn't killed, but you have been unconscious for more than a week."

Hermione was still in shock. "Professor--I--I have something about Malfoy. He worked for Voldemort in our time, but I thought that he changed, and that the Founder's Medallion knew what it was doing, and--. I was so confident that the Medallion and the Sorting Hat were infallible that I just let it go on. Of course I never trusted him as a person, but I trusted his goals. It was all just an act and I got taken in and he's probably out there now doing God knows what because of my blindness."

Dumbledore laid a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "He, I'm glad to say, is in Azkaban at the moment. He hasn't done anyone any lasting harm, although he will be staying there until we can find a way to send him back to his own era in a way that won't let him do anything else to anyone."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione continued. "So why did the Medallion send him if this was all that would come of it? He could have stayed in Azkaban in our time all along, it's not as though Voldemort would have let him out." Dumbledore looked at her questioningly, and she explained. "I found him because he was in prison with me, he must have upset him."

"You say that Voldemort is in power in your time? The boy in the prophecy, he didn't defeat him?" Dumbledore asked. Hermione wondered why he had mentioned the prophecy to her, but she assumed that he knew she already knew.

"No, he was my friend, my dear friend, but he was killed by Voldemort just an hour or so before I arrived here." 

"So sorry," Dumbledore said somberly. "Those kinds of things are never easy, but the dead never truly leave us. Not ever." He gave her a half smile before continuing. "But about the prophecy, there is another chance. There is another prophecy."

"What?" Hermione said, sitting bolt upright and staring at Dumbledore with shock etched on every inch of her face. Harry and Ron had told her about one prophecy, but never two. It briefly crossed her mind to shout at them for keeping things from her the next time she saw them, but then she realized that Dumbledore had just told her that she was there for another prophecy and not for the horcruxes. Harry and Ron were never coming back. She wanted to curl up and hide and weep, but she forced herself to listed to what Dumbledore had to say.

"It refers to you," he said. "And Malfoy."

She looked at him in disbelief. "How can it, what does it say? Are we to defeat--No, he would never agree to work against--"

Dumbledore began to recite, apparently from memory.

_"Blackened heart and blackened skin  
Golden heart or dead within?  
Birth will bring him nearer still  
To bending to his inner will  
To serve a master, and kneel to kiss  
Or bring the world unending bliss?  
Son of he who has once tried  
Son of she who hath defied  
Tied to webs only he may weave  
Tethered to dreams he can believe  
Vanquish foe or side with the dark  
Cold as ice or sweet as lark?  
Destiny shall be fulfilled  
Only blood of one is spilled  
Sunset brings the dawn in red  
Whose face shall be among the dead?  
Only he now born decides  
Where he stands between both sides"_

"A child," said Dumbledore. "Yours and Malfoy's. Either to serve the Dark Lord, or to defeat him." His silver, almost iridescent hair shimmered in the light, making him look like some king of specter bringer of bad faith.

When h was done, she couldn't speak. Everything she'd learnt in the past few minutes felt leaden and inescapable in her mind. She didn't shout, or faint, or do anything at all. She sat for a moment in absolute silence, then, when Dumbledore finally left, she slid under the scratchy blue blanket and sobbed bitter, desperate tears to mourn what she would never know.

A/N: Well? Will she end up with Malfoy for the rest of her life? Will she be miserable, or will she learn to love him? Will he learn to love her? Is there a way out? What does a prophecy really mean anyway?


	8. Coming to Grips

The Founder's Medallion

Chapter 8: Coming to Grips

What seemed an eternity later, Hermione woke up and walked to the toilets. There, she braced herself in front of the sink and looked hard into the slightly water stained glass that hung on the wall.

An overwhelming sense of darkness was overcoming her. She didn't know what would happen to her life or where she would go from there. Viciously, she reflected that the prophecy seemed to have a pretty good idea of it, and the more times she relived her conversation with Dumbledore, the more bitterly she cursed herself.

No. It was just one, simple, tiny little word. Two letters. One syllable that would have saved her from the crushing weight the prophecy had laid upon her. No, I don't want to know. It was all she needed to say. He had given her the option, had he not? That he had, and she could have taken it, but somewhere inside her, Hermione knew that if she had refused, she would never be able to live knowing that she in the way of Voldemort's end.

Still, Malfoy. The moment she'd heard it, she felt the weight of the galaxy come crashing down on her, suffocating her in every sense. She had prepared herself to destroy horcruxes and duel dark wizards, and maybe even to give her life doing it, but she was going to do it on her own terms as her own person. Certainly not tethered to that pathetic, sniveling excuse for a wizard.

In a few hours, her life had flashed before her eyes as Harry and Ron were killed, but when the Medallion took her back in time, she thought she had a second chance and vowed to make it right. Now, as it turned out, she had no way of fixing anything and another mission (if you could call it that) that would shove the stone in front of her crypt and leave her there, trapped in the stifling opulence of Malfoy's Wiltshire manor house for another 100 years until she actually died.

Hermione gagged at the notion of spending her eternity in Malfoy Manor. He'd probably lock her in a basement somewhere if the manor didn't have dungeons, which she was sure it did. Of course, a dungeon would be preferable to even a castle and moat shared with him, but she had better things to do than either of the grim choices. She wanted to become a professor, a Medi-Witch, or even an Auror, and she would have a quaint little old house with vines all along the fence, or maybe she and Ron could--.

She shook her head violently. She was being stupid, really. After all, no amount of desperation could change that fact that Ron Weasley was dead, and even when he was alive, it wasn't like they'd ever had a chance. Of course she knew how he felt, and he must have known about her, but she thought she was being silly to even entertain the idea. They were best friends, after all, and the last thing she wanted was to break it off with him two months later and watch seven years of friendship thrown to the gutter and trampled into the mud. They were just _really_ close friends.

Still, Hermione Granger was merely a factual person, not a heartless one. She remembered vividly the time she had gotten closest to Ronal Weasley, both physically and otherwise, and every time she let herself remember, she felt almost like he was there with her. Almost.

Grimmauld Place had been attacked. The Death Eaters had come late at night, or maybe early in the morning as both Lestranges, Avery, Nott, and six others appeared, apparently ready to fight to the death. Their longstanding security plan was thrown into motion--they fought like all hell, and when they couldn't fight anymore, they disapparated to the burrow. Mr. Weasley never made it back.

"_I just--I just--," Ron stuttered numbly. He was sitting on the edge of the paisley sofa in the Weasley's living room with his hair hanging limply in his face as he cradled his head in his hands, with violent sobs wracking his body as he cried._

"_Shhhh," Hermione soothed. She reached out and patted him on the back to try to comfort him. "Shhh, its okay. Shhh. He'll always be with you, he's your father. He'll always be with you."_

_Ron managed a weak smile for Hermione's effort and thanked her briefly before entering into a renewed fit of sobbing. All Hermione could think to do was give him a hug and shush him until Harry arrived with a tray of steaming hot butterbeer and sandwiches. _

"_Er, I thought you might want these, but if you don't, I can just go now," said Harry awkwardly while he tried to balance the precariously tipping tray. _

"_Oh, Harry, could you just, er, go?" said Hermione. She felt horrible saying it, knowing that this was his attempt at Mrs. Weasley's way of fixing things, but she supposed it had to be done. "Thanks so much, its just I don't think we need that right now." She noticed Harry's eyes on how she had out her arm around Ron's waist and the way her head almost rested on his shoulder and automatically moved away._

"_Yeah, I'm leaving." Harry threw a last glance back at his two friends and backed away from the door._

"_Sorry, Ron, I just didn't think you seemed to want food now, but I can go get him back if you want," Hermione said, starting to get up._

"_No, don't," said Ron. "I liked you here." _

"_Oh," Hermione said. What did he mean by that? "Oh." _

_Ron shifted a few inches closer to Hermione. Awkwardly, she took his cue and replaced her arm around him, which eventually led to his hand in hers and then to his head pressed hard into her neck. They sat still and silent, Hermione holding her best friend and would-be--something--as he cried._

Hermione turned the tap on as high as it would go and shoved her tangled mess of hair into the path of the icy torrent. The feeling of the freezing liquid seeping into her scalp and down her neck delivered a sharp jolt back into reality, but as the cold began to numb her head, it reminded her more and more of the tingling numbness that seemed to creep up her back every time she got near Ron, so she pulled her head away, wrung out her soaking hair with still trembling hands, and finally turned away from the mirror to slump against the pipe on the cold tile floor.

Just as she was beginning to calm down somewhat, a translucent, wispy shape emerged from between a crack in the door of the cubicle opposite her. It had long, straggly hair and wore an unpleasant pout, and Hermione wondered whether it was possible for the glasses to fall off its pug nose.

"Ooh, why are you crying," Myrtle said in a painful, drawling voice like a thousand of Nearly Headless Nick's saw choirs.

"Hello, Myrtle," said Hermione as Myrtle wafted closer and began to orbit her like some specter of a satellite orbiting Earth.

Myrtle looked at Hermione in indignation, like she thought some trick was being played on her. "You called my Myrtle! How do you know my name? Who are you? Ooh, I bet you've heard of me and you're just trying to play a trick on stupid, whining, moaning Myrtle."

"I have as much right to be in a loo as anyone else," said Hermione. She really didn't want to deal with this.

"But you don't think Myrtle has a right to be her, no you don't! It's written all over you face, you just want silly, pouting, haunting Myrtle to go away!"

Hermione found it slightly amusing that Myrtle was able to read that much into her facial expression. With clumped, wet eyelashes, a bright pink nose, and biting her lip to keep from adding to the single tear that carved a path like a salty river from her reddened eye down her flushed cheek, she doubted that she could spare a square inch of emotional display space for malice towards the pathetic, always-lurking ghost. It was like asking a dead man to care that his coffee was burnt--in comparison, it all meant nothing.

"Maybe I do want you to go away now!" Hermione snapped in a vain attempt to puncture Myrtle's ego enough to quiet her.

"Oh, you admitted it, you finally admitted it! You were just aching to tell Myrtle exactly what you thought of her, you were!" Myrtle turned a huge loop-de-loop in the air, coming to a halt midway between the ceiling and the mirror.

"Myrtle, could you please just leave me alone?" Hermione said. She slumped down further as Myrtle's prodding brought her closer to another fit of crying.

"You're crying now, are you?"

"You just noticed?"

"What's eating you?" Myrtle's tone went from taunting to a key that resembled helpful, apparently looking for some other miserable person to keep company with.

Hermione, however despairing, retained enough of her ardent dislike for the wide eyed, sobbing ghost to refuse to take part in a joint share-in-the-misery session. Drawing what must have been her million and first deep breath, she resolved to ignore the annoying little haunt and shut her eyes completely, lowering her head to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees in a vain effort to reduce herself to the smallest possible blip on the screen, thereby hoping to reduce the currently overwhelming amount of concentrated anguish inside her.

"You're not going to talk, are you? I'll go get Professor Dumbledore now, I guess, maybe he knows what your problem is."

She tried futilely to argue with Myrtle--the last thing she needed was to bring Dumbledore over and have him see her in near-hysterics--but it was too late. Myrtle was already back, with a smug smile on her face as she led the Headmater behind her.

Hermione jumped up quickly, nearly catching her skirt on a piece of the metal pipe. "Uhh…P-Professor, I was just leaving, just now, I-I mean--I'm coming back now."

"Listen to me," said Dumbledore gently.

Hermione raised her tearstained eyes and looked at him blankly.

"You are in shock, as is only natural. But, I believe that you will rise above this and do what your heart is telling you to do. I can't tell you what choice to make, just that you are entitled to make your own decisions."

"No one will force me," said Hermione dryly. "I'm sorry, Professor, but what choice do I have? No one will force me. I'll force myself. I have to force myself." She thought for a moment. "Although the other side is putting up quite the argument."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You say that you have to force yourself like that is the only option. Like there is nothing else you could conceive of doing. You say it without hesitation. Why?"

What an odd question. Hermione was used to Dumbledore being somewhat cryptic, but this wasn't cryptic. It was just…unnerving, actually, the things he said. Like he said them because of a world scope that most couldn't even fathom.

"I'm not saying it without hesitation, and I'm definitely not doing it because I'm that fond of the idea, but more because that's what I have to do. This is the only way that the future will stand a fighting chance against Voldemort. I could never be that selfish. I want to be, desperately, but when it comes down to it its that or we'll all die in the end, right?"

Once again, the old wizard shook his head. "You don't understand. Hesitations or not, there are very few witches and wizards who would stand up to what you are facing. And, all your fears are what makes what you are doing a true Gryffindor act--if you had no fears, you would not be brave or noble, only ignorant."

"I--I--Thank you," said Hermione at last. She took a long, slow breath and rolled her shoulders back as she stepped toward the door.

"Miss Granger, we should move quickly now," said Dumbledore. "Azkaban has made it clear that, though they don't appreciate the idea, Malfoy is to be released to me when we come."

Hermione gasped involuntarily. "Professor, I'm sorry, I don't know what I thought we were going to do, but surely to release him after he tried to murder a room full of people isn't the best idea."

"I understand, but it is the nature of the Medallion to have these things very well planned out, so I doubt very much that he will do anything. He seemed to have attempted to do what he did not out of conviction, but out of desperation, and I do not believe he would dare attempt it a second time."

"Oh," Hermione said. She scolded herself for thinking that a man like Dumbledore hadn't considered something as important as that.

She allowed herself to be led through halls, corridors, and stairways, past the curious stares, whispers and sidelong glances of students, and finally to a small clearing well outside the Hogwarts boundaries, in the centre of which lay a small, white muggle golf ball.

"Official Portkey. The only way to reach Azkaban," explained Dumbledore. He glanced at his unique, many handed gold watch. "Departing in exactly 15 seconds."

Hermione nodded an hurried over to touch the Portkey, which soon gave a sudden, hard tug and threw her spinning into the air, finally dropping her unceremoniously on the wet, rocky ground outside Azkaban fortress.

The island rose up from the sea like a iron grey spectre from which sprouted a massive, stone building. Everything from the pointy rocks that she could see in the sea below to the rusted metal spikes that protruded from the prison's walls cast an ominous air about the area.

Nearby, Dumbledore was explaining himself to a very unhappy Dementor, but he finally seemed to have been given leave to pass, for he reached out a hand and beckoned her to follow him inside.

The last thing Hermione wanted to do was bring herself within range of the Dementors, for fear of what terrible images they would conjure up inside her now, but she obediently, if reluctantly, followed him through the entrance. To her great relief, though, she found herself able to pass by Dementor after Dementor and still remain completely unaffected. None of the prisoners she saw now were who she expected them to be--she had envisioned being confronted by the faces that she had seen glaring at her from posters and Daily Prophet headlines, but she had to remind herself that it would be years until those witches and wizards would glare out from behind the bars. Still, she couldn't shake the fear that she would be confronted by Sirius's sunken, hallow eyes and gaunt face staring out at her from the next cell she passed.

"Why can't I feel the Dementors?"

"A spell I used. It's a sort of a Patronus, but its more like a force instead of a creature."

Never had Hermione heard of anything like that, but she assumed that, being Dumbledore, he could do a lot of things most people had never heard of.

Soon, they reached the end of the first block, where they found Malfoy, leaning against a wooden bench and playing idly with a piece of thread that he had ripped from the sleeve of his robes. He looked up at them, eyes widening noticeably at the sight of Dumbledore.

"Professor!"

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said calmly. "You will be coming with us now."

"With you?" asked Malfoy hopefully. "What? Where?"

"Back."

"To Hogwarts?"

"To 1999," said Dumbledore. "It is time that the two of you be returned to your proper world."

Malfoy's face twisted in shock. "What? So you're not keeping me in prison? You're sending me back?"

"A prophecy," said Hermione, her face stony. "We have a prophecy to fulfil now."

"A prophecy? What prophecy?" Malfoy demanded. "What is it?"

"_Blackened heart and blackened skin  
Golden heart or dead within?  
Birth will bring him nearer still  
To bending to his inner will  
To serve a master, and kneel to kiss  
Or bring the world unending bliss?  
Son of he who has once tried  
Son of she who hath defied  
Tied to webs only he may weave  
Tethered to dreams he can believe  
Vanquish foe or side with the dark  
Cold as ice or sweet as lark?  
Destiny shall be fulfilled  
Only blood of one is spilled  
Sunset brings the dawn in red  
Whose face shall be among the dead?  
Only he now born decides  
Where he stands between both sides"_

Malfoy slowly stood up, but continued to stare reflectively at the floor. Hermione held her breath, hoping fervently that he would understand without her having to tell him--being told was more than enough, but repeating it crossed the line.

"That means--are you sure?" he asked her. He didn't scoff, or jeer, or look down his nose at her--he asked her in a tone that was not only respectful but humble, even frightened.

"I am," said Dumbledore. "Very sure."

"Professor, what now?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"You will take a time Portkey, arranged for you specially by the Ministry of Magic. It will bring you to a place, anywhere at all, where you will be able to find someone trustworthy and willing to perform the Fidelius Charm to secure you, either in their home or at another location, although you must take care not to select anywhere to obvious."

Hermione tried to think of anyone she could turn to for help, but the only true and trustworthy friends she had were dead--no, that wasn't true, the Weasleys. While she wasn't as close with Ginny and her brothers as she had been with Ron and Harry, she was sure that they would be willing helpers. Her only fear was of what they would think of her now for doing what she did. Would they understand, or would it be betraying…everything. Her friends, her convictions, herself…Ron?

"One of the Weasleys would be willing, I think," Hermione venture. A sharp intake of breath indicated Malfoy's reaction, but he was ignored.

"So they will be," Dumbledore said.

"If they've Fidelius-d us into a house, then what will happen to," Malfoy gulped, "the child?"

"You will need a good story. A flawless one, actually. A complete act, and a talent for Occlumency."

Hermione nodded, having learnt Occlumency during 7th year and knowing that Malfoy knew it already.

A metallic sound rung out when Dumbledore inserted a sinister key into the lock and turned it, causing the heavy iron door to swing loose and hit the wall with another much louder sound. As they walked back through the long row and outside, they received empty, goggling stares from other prisoners. It struck Hermione that that was exactly what she would become if anyone found her--imprisoned or, most likely, dead--but she pushed the thought from her mind. She would be safe under the Fidelius Charm, and there would be a renewed promise of good to come for the Wizarding world.

Still telling herself this, she didn't realize that she had placed her hand on the Portkey until she felt a violent jolt and flew not only through the air, but through the very fabric of time as well to meet an most inhospitable fate.

A/N: I tried to have her struggle with the idea quite a bit, because it'd be very unrealistic for her to "do the right thing" instantaneously, but she obviously couldn't just bolt and go to Antarctica or something like that either. CC, especially characterization wise, will be taken to heart and if anyone points out anything, I'll go back over it and try to improve. Also, as I was writing the first chapters (maybe 4 and below) I couldn't help but put in useless Marauder stuff, but now I am also asking for feedback about what is useful/makes it interesting and what is excessive and pointless. Thanks!


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